Chapter 7: The Journey to Palm Grove

I never waka leave house before, and after I die at nine, I no go school again.

For spirit world, nobody dey teach you road—na you go learn by mistake.

Lucky for me, I fit read all the signboard for road.

E shock me say wetin I learn for primary three still dey help me, even after I waka go spirit world. English, Igbo, Yoruba—any language, my eye go catch am.

I ask plenty spirit for direction—some show me road, some just dey carry me go where church or mosque dey.

If I pass any mosque, na only prayer I go hear. Some imam go shout, the sound go scatter for air, make me run. Church own even worse—dem dey spray oil for junction, I go dey dodge am like say na bullet.

Some church fit harm spirit for even hundred meters away.

I wound many times.

My arm dey burn, my leg dey weak, but I no stop. I dey draw strength from memory—Mama laugh, the way she dey braid my hair, the way she dey sing for me.

I really wan tell Mama the pain wey I dey face after I see her.

But she go just cry tire.

No need. Since I go soon disappear, make I no add join her wahala.

I dey reason say Mama don try. If I show her my own pain, e go break her spirit again.

So, when I see her, I go just tell her say I miss her well well.

I go try make she move on, make she no dey think of me again.

If I fit lie say I dey happy for spirit world, e go free her mind.

By that time, I go just lie say I dey go reincarnate.

For next life, I go dey happy.

As I dey think of wetin I go talk, my mind just strong more.

Even though my body dey pain me, nothing fit stop my need to see Mama.

For every wound wey I get for road, I go talk to myself, "Yanyan, you must reach."

Mama don move far.

So far say e take me half year reach Palm Grove.

I waka rain, waka sun, pass many junction. Sometimes I go rest under cashew tree, dey watch children dey play ten-ten, dey remind myself of old joy.

Palm Grove fine true true—mountain, river, everywhere just dey shine.

The air smell of roasted corn and wet earth, children dey chase each other, laughter dey bounce like pebble for river. The air dey sweet, breeze dey soft, birds dey sing like choir for morning.

Mama enter better place.

Palm Grove big, e take me time find her.

The compound full, children dey play, women dey sell corn for roadside. My spirit dey blend inside crowd, but I dey focus.

Na only dream waka pass, na my own power be that. Unlike those strong spirit wey fit just waka go anywhere, find person sharp sharp.

Some spirit fit smell their people for miles. My own weak—na only dream I fit send, and my dream dey fade like old photograph.

But after I waka Palm Grove for one month, I finally see Mama.

Na one afternoon, when sun don come down small, I see am dey wash cloth under small mango tree.